Hurricane Ida

Of COURSE there would be a hurricane churning its way through Caribbean waters this week. Yes, please, that's exactly what I need to relax! My mom called me early this morning, feigning tears and unable to mask her urgent need to be reassured that Hurricane Ida would not wreck our vacation. Did I mention that we booked this trip a year ago? Mom kept saying, "You know, there's going to be some freak storm that pops out of central America and ruins our trip!" I kept pish-poshing her and her phone call this morning confirmed my worst fear. This stupid hurricane may well impact my beach time. Even if it misses Florida and sweeps up the Gulf, the winds stir up quite a mess. The beach becomes less and less of an option. Unless, of course, you like being sandblasted.

Have I ever told you the story of our worst vacation EVER? Jack and I vacationed in Melbourne Beach, FL, after my first semester of grad school. I was so hopped up on stress that I wasn't sure how I was surviving. We rented a gorgeous beach house right on the water, with a back deck that afforded panoramic views of the coast. I could have sat out there for hours. I tried to, until I came down with the stomach flu. On Day 2, when I started feeling better, we noticed a stiff wind rolling in off the water. I tuned in to the news and found that Tropical Storm Andrea was anchored off the coast of Georgia. The low pressure was driving steady 30-50 mph winds for two straight days. Any exploit down to the beach (right below our deck) ended with sand in our faces, hair, and eyes. On the evening of Day 3, the storm finally came ashore, horizontal rains coming through our windows, soaking the floor. It was okay, the storm made it rather romantic.

Then on Day 4, the sun was shining, birds chirping, and lovebugs swarming. It put the Biblical locusts to shame, as literally millions of lovebugs emerged from the wind-stirred vegetation. Beaches were crawling with the bugs and any car trips ended with front bumpers smeared with hundreds of bug carcasses. We couldn't go outside without shoeing dozens of bugs from our bodies. They didn't sting, but it was beyond gross.

On Day 5, I got fed up and was so frustrated that I couldn't relax. I NEEDED to relax! So Jack and I packed up the beach house and headed inland to Orlando. I booked a cheesy theme resort and we spent the last three days of our vacation holed up in a family resort next to a mini golf course. It wasn't even sunny outside; I distinctly remember reading by pool and not needing sunscreen or sunglasses. While we did round out our vacation with a trip to Universal Studios, the trip was a complete and utter bust. I hoped we fulfilled our quota of bad vacation karma and would enjoy wonderful, perfect vacations from that point forward. Well, except for Mexico interrupting our cruise last May because of swine flu. But I got over that one.

So tonight, after running for 12 straight hours, I decided to have dinner at the hospital. I had the best chicken fingers in the world (saturated fat be damned). Then again, I was so hungry that I was about to nosh on a stack of napkins. The thoughts of my approaching vacation have gotten me through a treacherous last several weeks. I even found myself doodling the view (roughly, of course) from our condo's front window that overlooks the bay. I've been doodling palm trees, surf boards, and dreaming of flip flops on my sand-covered feet.

Sigh. And now this. Ida. I don't like you. You're a bad storm. I will you to move west and leave our poor Florida alone!